This analysis will focus on what is authenticity in the context of an exhibition display and ways in which people generally perceive it. Main question: does authentic mean true to itself or true to its audience?
Like so many other things, the definition of “authenticity” depends on the context it is being used in. When it comes to museums and other institutions, which feature exhibitions, the difficulty comes from the fact, that the objects on display are viewed from two sides: the audience and the curators. The specialist addressing the authenticity of the object would rely on the quality of the materials, provenance, and content. The audience of the exhibition would generally take these things on faith, especially if it’s a reputable institution. It is often the impression the object makes that is crucial for their perception of its authenticity, which, in turn, connects closely to value.
There are numerous articles on the question of authenticity, yet one, in particular, attracted my attention. Kaiti Hannah’s “Authenticity in Museums and Heritage Sites: All It’s Cracked Up to Be?” implies that it is easier to define “authenticity” in the setting of an art museum, than in the history museum, which is, arguably, an oversimplification. Yes, a large part of it has to do with tracing the provenance of the piece, but that does not always help with finding the creator. After all, there are plenty of pieces from the pre-historic period, as well as from the ancient world, in which a lot of the times the artist is not mentioned. In these cases, the object which carries artistic value also becomes the historical object, as Kaiti Hannah would describe it: their origins and age can be traced, but nothing more. Then it is the material and not the name of the artist that decides the level of “authenticity” the object possesses. That is one way to view authenticity.
That being said, even objects with a well-known creator can become tricky under certain circumstances. A great example would be a production by ING called “The Next Rembrandt.” It is a painting allegedly created by a computer and is a perfect imitation of Rembrandt’s technique. It has not been painted by Rembrandt but, according to the people behind the project, it might as well have been.
In this case, would paintings by Rembrandt eventually become less valuable in the eyes of the public, since they can be replicated? After all, authenticity is usually important to people because it implies a level of exclusivity. The objects’ creators, period, and materials make them unique and, thus, appealing. This project puts into question that paradigm, attesting that the modern-day technology now brings a new dimension to the discussion of authenticity, which was previously never addressed.
Curiously enough, the more famous the work, the more pressing these questions become. Mona Lisa in Louvre, Paris is the most recognised painting in the world, with millions of copies, yet people travel the globe to see the original painting by Leonardo da Vinci. Even though the room is filled with tourists and cameras, it does not faze them. It is authentic and that is all that matters. Ironically enough, considering the size of the painting and the distance one has to keep when viewing it, it would be impossible to make sure that the painting is original. The point I made in the introduction about the public putting its faith in the institution when viewing the artworks shows best in this example. Every visitor to Louvre trusts the museum to present them with the original painting. Even though many are aware that constantly being on display is damaging to the painting, it would still be considered unethical on the museum’s part to present the audience with a copy without informing them beforehand. Yet, unless one has professional training and a lab there is no way for anyone to tell a difference between the original painting and a copy.
Even though people cannot say for certain that the object is authentic, once they think it is, they perceive what Alyssa M. Frijey calls an “aura of authenticity,” surrounding certain objects. This shows that authenticity for the visitors is actually not so much about the object itself but the feelings its originality inspires. Arguably, it is connected to our fascination with mortality. The average lifespan for a person is between 70 and 80, which is very short compared to the age of the pyramids or Venus of Willendorf. These objects, no matter their size and origins, help us to establish connections with past civilizations and attribute meaning to our lives. That is, in part, what provokes the sense of “aura” Alyssa Frijey discusses. It makes us feel as if we are becoming part of something that has been there before us and which will stay after we are gone. The copy might have all of the characteristics of the original, but it has not survived centuries of history before the visitors’ eyes fell upon it.
Another interesting aspect of the authenticity question comes out more when one looks at modern art. For example, Picasso’s paintings are extremely expensive yet, in terms of technique, some of them are quite minimalistic, nor are they particularly old. In other words, it is not so much the work itself that people usually want to own, but the name on that painting. In this case, the “aura” of authenticity comes from the connection the painting can establish between the owner and the artist. Picasso has died but through his work one can connect with him. That is also one of the reasons people want to see Mona Lisa so badly. It was painted by someone, who is famously considered one of the three most intelligent people, who have ever lived in the Western world. In this case, it is not the age, but the creator who matters.
In other words, for any object to be considered “authentic,” it needs to have an audience which constructs the “aura” of authenticity around it, thus making it unique and precious.
Featured Image: Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash
